Year 108 A.C.
King's Landing, Small Council Chamber.
(five days after Denovan conquered the Frozen Shore clan).
POV: Viserys Targaryen
The Small Council Chamber was full. Lord Otto Hightower, my Hand; Lord Lyman Beesbury, the Master of Coin; Grand Maester Mellos; Lord Corlys Velaryon, Master of Ships; My brother, Daemon Targaryen, Commander of the City Watch; and Lord Lyonel Strong, Master of Laws.
It was rare to have everyone gathered without a heated discussion starting in the first few minutes, but rarer than that was Daemon's constant presence in these meetings in recent years. For two years, my brother had been present at almost all summons.
The meeting had started as always, with minor matters and the already traditional insistence of Lord Velaryon about the growing threat in the Stepstones.
"Your Majesty... as I said in the previous small council meeting, the so-called Crabfeeder has raised the tolls to cross the strait again..."
"Lord..." Otto tried to interrupt the man, but Corlys continued
"I ask that we interrupt these attacks, my house has already lost two of its ships, if it continues at this pace the pirates will be even more uncontrollable..."
"We must send a maritime force to finish off those crabs... things cannot continue like this"
"Lord Corlys more respect when addressing the king... do not treat him like any other lord," intervened Otto.
Since the black raven, Otto's actions have been seeming increasingly irritating to me, now I really understand Daemon for treating him the way he treats him.
"Lord Otto, if I need someone to show me respect, I speak myself, I don't need you to speak for me, this is the small council, and we are trying to solve problems of the realm... sometimes we can get a little excited," I said, averting my gaze to Lord Corlys who gave a slight nod.
"Lord Corlys... I will send an emissary to Essos, so that we can try to solve it peacefully, I do not want to start a war"
before Corlys could answer me the door opened and out came my queen.
Aemma has been participating in the council meetings, an initiative I took, after suspecting everyone who was sitting at that table... maybe that raven made me paranoid, but even so, my queen has been helping me in several decisions... I owe her for that.
Many lords still murmured in the corridors about Aemma's presence at the council meetings. They always commented when she wasn't there, as it became a habit. I had demanded that my queen participate in the decisions of the realm. If my grandfather, King Jaehaerys, did it with Good Queen Alysanne and was considered the wisest man in Westeros, why couldn't I do the same? Especially after the advice I received.
I looked at Aemma as she took her seat beside me. She was at the peak of her beauty. Years without the torment, the sadness and the physical wear of getting pregnant and losing babies gave her a radiant strength. Color had returned to her cheeks. Thanks to that dark warning years ago, I felt less and less the overwhelming obligation of having a male heir at any cost. We had agreed that we would try one last time soon, when she was totally ready, and that it would be the last.
Seeing her so beautiful and healthy put a smile on my face, but her voice took me out of my daydreams.
"My lord husband," Aemma said, her voice clear and firm. "The First Ranger of the Night's Watch has just arrived. He says he has something urgent to announce."
The Night's Watch. It had been a long time since I thought about the Wall. When Aemma touched on this subject, the first thing that shone in my mind was the golden-eyed raven. The bird that appeared, spoke blasphemies that so far saved my family, and disappeared into the King's Landing night.
"Let him in," I said firmly, sitting up straighter in my chair.
The doors opened again under the command of the Kingsguard. A man wearing heavy clothes, of a faded black and worn by the journey, entered the room and gave a stiff bow.
"Your Grace," he said. "The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch sent me here to speak about the disturbing behavior of the wildlings."
A sudden tension etched itself on my forehead. I rested my elbows on the table.
Another war knocks on my door?
"And what would it be, Ser...?"
"I am not an anointed knight, Your Grace. You can call me Rickon Snow."
"A bastard...", murmured Daemon quietly, spinning a ring on his finger with a cynical smile.
Everyone at the table decided to ignore the provocation.
"What are they plotting, Rickon?" I asked, curiosity mixed with an icy premonition.
"Your Grace, it's been over two years that the wildling attacks have been decreasing, and for six months we haven't received a single wildling attack on the Wall. No group of raiders, no arrow. And that, in the North, is usually a terrible prelude. So, under orders of our Lord Commander, we carried out deep patrols to investigate."
All the lords of the council were now focused on the man in black.
"And what did you discover?" pressed Otto Hightower.
Rickon Snow took a deep breath. "We discovered that there is a new leader among them. He has not declared himself king officially, but the wildlings call him 'Beast King'. They say he is an incredibly powerful warg, who is always followed by demonic beasts, black as night, and that possess golden eyes."
My heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be him... could it?
"The wildlings praise him as invincible," the ranger continued. "And it seems they are in a mass migration. Entire clans are abandoning their lands to march towards the place he summoned them..."
"And what is the objective of this march?" asked Lord Velaryon, his eyes narrowed.
"We don't know the objectives of that wildling, my lord. But they never unite for good reasons. It is estimated that this Beast King must have, at a minimum, thirty thousand wildlings under his command. If he decides to attack the Wall with that force... the rangers will not endure without terrible casualties." Rickon looked directly at me. "We came to ask the Iron Throne for help. In order to avoid a massacre, and perhaps do as the late King Jaehaerys did once, we ask that you send a dragon. The presence of a dragon would destroy the wildlings' morale and prevent them from attacking. And, if they attack, our casualties would be minimal with fire coming from the skies."
My thoughts were racing. Beast King. Warg. Black beasts with golden eyes.
The raven's voice echoed in my mind as if it were perched on my shoulder: "We will meet again... Viserys." Would you be uniting your people to survive against the White Walkers you mentioned? Is that your war?
"Did you make contact with this so-called Beast King?" I asked, my voice coming out more controlled than I expected.
"We didn't dare make contact with him, Your Grace," admitted Rickon. "We just decided to warn Lord Stark in Winterfell and the Iron Throne about the imminent attack. After all, it will be a large-scale attack, one the likes of which we haven't seen in a long time."
"And how can you be so sure that they will attack us?" I retorted.
This time, the one who answered was the Lord Hand. Otto leaned forward, his voice gentle, but sharp.
"If you allow me, Your Grace... wildlings always gather to loot, rape and cross the Wall. Why would it be different this time? Their instinct is barbarism."
"That's right, Your Grace," agreed Lord Velaryon. "If possible, we should launch a preemptive attack with dragonfire. Cut off the serpent's head before it bites."
I slammed my flat hand on the oak table. The sound made everyone fall silent.
"You will not do that. If we preemptively attack a people that have not yet raised a single sword against the North and the Realm, we will lose all reason and incite a war that might not even exist."
"Peaceful as always, Your Grace," commented Corlys Velaryon, without totally hiding his frustration. "But not all things are solved with letters and dialogues. Thirty thousand wildlings don't gather to chat."
"If they really attack the Wall, then the Iron Throne will send full support. Dragons included. But I believe that will not happen," I sentenced.
The ranger looked a little frustrated and took a step forward.
"But why, Your Grace? After so much time on the Wall, we suffer attacks every year. six months of silence is not peace, it is preparation! According to our records, every time this has happened, a great horde was formed by a King-Beyond-the-Wall, and they marched to kill us. Every time, without exception! Why would it be different now?"
I looked at the man in black. Could I be wrong in trusting the words of a bird? No. I feel that I'm not. That raven must be this Beast King. If he just wanted to loot the North, he wouldn't have warned me about the threats inside my own house. He has bigger plans.
"I will send gold, supplies and men for the Night's Watch to strengthen the defenses," I said, using my King's tone. "And, if things get ugly... a dragon will be there."
I signaled slightly to Daemon. My brother gave a predatory smirk from the corner of his mouth, loving the idea of a possible war.
"Thank you, Your Grace...", said Rickon, seeming to accept that he wouldn't get more than that. "I will take my leave. I must return to my duty in the North as quickly as possible."
"Thank you for the warning, Rickon Snow. Have a good trip."
The man gave a deep bow. "Long live your majesty." And he left.
As soon as the doors closed, I turned my attention back to the table.
"The Council is dismissed for today. You may leave. Only my wife and my brother will stay."
"But, Your Grace...", Otto Hightower began to protest, his hands resting on the table as if to argue.
Daemon cut his speech like an axe.
"Are you deaf, Lord Hightower? Your King told you to leave."
"Sigh..."
"Daemon...", I murmured, reprimanding him slightly, although internally I was satisfied.
I looked at Otto. "We will have a private meeting later, Otto...", I said, but the indifference was palpable in my voice. Since the raven's warning, I kept Otto close to watch him, but I did not give him the power he so craved... I have been trusting Aemma and Daemon more, and Lord Strong, the man gives me good advice.
When all the lords finally left and the doors were locked, I leaned back in my chair and let out my breath heavily.
"I believe this Beast King is the warg who talked to me four years ago."
In these last few years, I have become even closer to my wife and my brother. I took the raven's words seriously; I began to trust only the blood of my blood. When I told them about the visit on the balcony, I was afraid of what Daemon would do with the information. I thought he would call me crazy.
But he didn't mock, as was his custom. He just listened, became thoughtful and said he would investigate using his gold cloaks and spies. In four years, we didn't find any information in the South about mages or golden-eyed ravens.
And now, the answer falls into our lap: a warg king on the other side of the Wall. The only place we didn't investigate.
It was in this time of renewed trust that I publicly declared Daemon my heir. Until Aemma and I had a male son, Daemon would sit on the Iron Throne if I fell. It was a vote of confidence that changed my brother. I asked him to be more controlled and to participate in the decisions of the realm. To my surprise and Otto's horror, he obeyed.
Daemon crossed his arms and leaned against the table.
"Viserys... as much as this warg has opened your eyes to the serpent that is your lord hand and has the same terrible opinion about Otto as I do, I don't believe he is trustworthy... no man does things without ulterior motives," said my brother, his eyes shining with distrust. "We must prepare to burn the wildlings if necessary. Thirty thousand men don't gather to knit fur coats."
"I don't think it will come to that...", murmured Aemma, squeezing my hand on the table. "But ignorance is our greatest enemy right now. We should send someone to deliver a letter to this man. Establish a contact."
"A letter?" Daemon laughed. "Do you think a wildling covered in furs and stinking of wolf feces knows how to read?"
"Would a wildling know how the politics of the Seven Kingdoms work?" I retorted, looking seriously at my brother. "He knew about our Small Council. He knew about Otto Hightower's intentions. He knew the minutiae of my life and Aegon's secret. He certainly knows how to read, Daemon. And if he doesn't, he simply won't answer us, and then we will know it's not the same man who visited me."
Daemon snorted, but he did not disagree with my logic.
I sighed, looking at the windows that faced the city.
"Let's wait a little longer. The warg told me that night that we would meet again... If he is uniting the North, maybe the time for that meeting is finally arriving."
-
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